


The Arcana- Prologue Chapters

by Timeforelfnonsense



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Female Apprentice (The Arcana), Julian Devorak's Route, Prologue, the acarna
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 07:06:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19290709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Timeforelfnonsense/pseuds/Timeforelfnonsense
Summary: A magician's assistant with no memory of her past has been tasked to solve the murder of a Count.





	1. Chapter 1

The key turns in the door with a soft click. Julian slips silently into the back room, the once familiar smell of incense and herbs filling his nose. He smirks, imagining Asra’s face when he confronts him. He peers past the velvet currents into the store proper but, it isn’t Asra he finds. It’s a young woman, her willowy and petite. He watches her tidy up the store, pulling back her cinnamon brown ringlets with a patterned scarf exposing pointed ears. She sings to herself, her voice clear and honey sweet.   
There was something about her. A familiar sway to her hips, a look in her eyes. Yet he was certain he had no memory of her. Julian takes a deep breath before stepping out from the shadows. She might not be Asra but she must know where to find him.  
“Strange hours for a shop to keep”   
She whips around to face him, taking a few steps back as he approaches. A soft glow begins to spark in her palm, Julian tuts, taking another step towards her.  
“So, this is the witch’s lair. Then...who might you be?”  
She responds by launching a bolt of ruby red light at him but her shot goes wide, crashing into a lantern behind him with an electric crackle.  
“Oh, has the witch been teaching you his tricks? Unfortunately for you, I’ve seen them all befo-”  
The glass bottle hits his head with a crack, shattering on his temple and sending his mask clattering to the ground. Before he can regain his bearings she throws her shoulder into him, pinning him against the counter. Despite her small size she is quite strong. Her face is fierce, golden eyes a flame, He feels the cool press of a dagger against his throat.  
Julian whips his bloody brow with a chuckle, “You do have guts.”  
She pushes more of her weight into his side, shoulder digging into his chest “What. Do. You. Want.”   
Her voice is firm and he can hear the soft rolling of thunder, magic electricity making his the hair on the back of his neck stand.   
“Now that’s what I call and introduction,” he purrs, “I’m not here to hurt you, I was looking for Asra but, it seems he’s not here.”   
She raises an eyebrow to him before lifting her crimson skirt to return her blade to the black, lacy garter on her thigh.  
“Well, no sense in wasting the visit. You’re a fortune teller, aren’t you? Tell my fortune, and I’ll leave you in peace. That is what that room in the back is for, isn’t it?”   
“Ha! You break into my store, frighten me and you have the gall to ask me for a reading?” She strides towards the front door inviting him to leave.   
“Come on, what could be the harm?”   
She remains silent. Her arms crossed, an icy stare fixed on him. He grins back at her one brow raised. She lets out a vexed groan shaking her head.  
“Fine, but if you try anything, I won’t hesitate to hurt you.”  
He chuckles again, “Oh, don’t threaten me with a good time...”

She walks him back past the heavy purple curtains, her eyes never leaving him. She’s run her skirt though one of the leather hikes hanging off her belt, dagger on display against the light olive skin of her thigh. She watches him as he flops down in one of the reading chairs.  
“Go on, no need to be shy.” He coxes, an eyebrow raised.  
She mumbled something under her breath that sounds rather impolite before she takes her place across from him. She produces a tarot deck from one of the leather pouches on her hips, shuffling it in her hands.   
“You’ll have to tell me your name.”   
“My name?”  
She glowers at him, “For the reading. You know, the one I’m giving you in spite of my better judgment? Right now?”  
“Oh. Right. Yes, of course” He stammers, a blush creeping onto his ears, You can call me Julian.”   
“Alright, now were are getting somewhere. Was that so hard?”   
She closes her eyes, cutting the deck, once, twice, three times before setting three cards on the table in front of him. Slowly, she turns the first card over, the image of a horse's skull stairs back at them.   
“Death, transformat…”   
Before the shopkeep can finish her words Julian interrupts her with a laugh before getting up from the table.   
“Death? Death?” He shakes his head, and pushes past the back room curtains with a flourish, “Death cast her gaze on this wretch and turned away. She has no interest in an abomination like me.”  
She gets up from her chair, bewilderment coloring her face, “What? No, that isn’t even what Death means!”   
“No, no, my fate is sealed” He laments, running a leather clad hand through his messy curls.  
“Are you always this morose?” She inquires, fingers pinching between her brows.  
He ignores her, scooping the mask from the shop floor.   
“It’s late and I shouldn’t keep you. Seek me out if you ever grow board of the witch.”   
With that he reaches for the door to take his leave, taking one last look at her before stepping out into the cool night.


	2. Chapter 2

Sunlight pours in through the sheer, pink fabric that drapes her bed room, warming her cheek. Fable’s eyes flutter open, she stretches her arms overhead. The previous night was confusing to say the least, between the countess and her uninvited guest. Strange, how familiar he seemed, something beyond a face on a wanted poster. He had left her unnerved and her head aching. She got to her feet, no time to dwell on it now. She puts the kettle on and selects a tea from the shops expansive collection. A pale yellow tin with worry be gone, scrawled on a well-wore label in her own hand.  
“That should do the trick.” She mutters, “And if not…”  
She pours a bit of spiced rum into a small flask, just in case. Making her way back to the bedroom. She dips to her knees, unlocking the large, baby blue trunk at the foot of her bed. The smell of dried wild rose and pine fills her nose as she carefully pulls out a creamy gown from the bottom. She holds it to her chest and wonders when she might have worn it before. Just like the rest of the contents of this chest, it was from a part of her life she had forgotten. Something from a time before she awoke in Asra’s arms, his violet eyes staring back at her. She tried her best not to think about her life before, whoever she was is lost to her. Now, there is only forward.  
She rises to her feet again, placing the dress on the bed. Sliding out of her night gown, pulling a cotton chemise over her head followed by a few layers of petticoats. She tugs white stockings over her legs, a lacy garter on each thigh, one holding her dagger the other a flask. With a wave of her hand her stay pulls tight behind her. She takes a look at her reflection in the mirror, offering it a wink.  
It was a rare occasion for her to dress up, there wasn’t much need for anything quite so lavish for trips to the market or the rare outing with Asra.  
She hums a few notes and flicks her wrist and the lute beside her bed joins her song. With a smile she sits at the humble vanity, roughing her cheeks, dusting her eyes with a soft, pearlescent powder. Gifts from Asra’s last journey, she detested his secret keeping but she has to admit the thoughtful gifts he brings her often soften the blow. Her slender hand wrapped around a jeweled comb, running it through her thick curls until they are a fluffy mass before pulling them into a voluminous bun atop her head. One last pass in the mirror and she is ready to go. She laces up her soft leather boots and pulls a cloak over her patit shoulders before stepping out on the street.  
Carefully, she turns each lock on the heavy wooden door before casting a protection spell and setting off. 

The streets of Vesuvia bussell with traffic, friendly faces call her name with a wave and a smile. Merchants shout from their stalls, each promising wears and wonders found nowhere else in the world. The smell of warm bread and honey fills her nose as she walks pasta familiar stall.  
“Fable! Have you eaten? I’ve got that pumpkin loaf you like in the oven. Won’t be long now.” The baker shouts, waving her over.  
Fable’s offers him a kind smile, hunger pangs at her belly but, she really shouldn’t keep the Countess waiting.  
“Next time! I’m meeting the Countess today!” She shouts back, with a playful curtsy.  
Fable pushes forward, expertly weaving between workers and townsfolk. The market is chaotic at this time of day, but she finds the lively atmosphere invigorating. From above, a sharp cry cuts through the music and chatter of the market.  
A large, black bird sits perched on the stall above her’ it’s gaze set on something just over her shoulder. She turns, raizing the raven has it's eyes fixed on the doctor from the previous night leisurely shopping across the way. A wanted man wondering the market no different than any other patron. An impulse takes hold and without thought she begins to march towards.  
Pushing against the flow of traffic, she squeezes between stalls and carts trying to reach him.The raven calls out and our eyes lock. He grins, mouthing a silent hello, as the bird lands on his shoulder. However before she can reach him, the path is blocked by a vendor and he slips away.  
With the sake of her head, she joins the flow of traffic. Why did she do that? It was foolish, and what was her plan to confront him in the street?  
She makes her way to the stone stairway, a wave of nostalgia swells in her chest when she spots a fortune teller’s booth, not unlike the one Asra had once worked out of.  
A small, curvy redhead emerges from the booth, thinking aloud she recalls her to do list. She crashes into Fable, sending her topping off her step. Pomegranates spill from the stranger’s basket tumbling down the steps  
“Oh, perfect! As if I wasn’t already late…” She grumbles, scrambling to gather up the falling fruit.  
Fable bends down herself handing the redhead the pomegranates that landed at her feet.  
“ Ooh, thank you! How sweet of you to help. And after I bumped into you in the first place!” She beams, helping Fable to her feet, “Wait! I know you! Your the magician the Countess told me about! I’m Portia, head servant at the Palace!”

Portia laces her arm though Fable’s, “Come on, I’ll show you the quickest way to the palace.”  
The pair of them chatter the whole way. Portia’s copper hair bouncing as she gives an animated description of the inside of the palace. They are kindred spirits, lively and full of laughter.  
“I’m so happy you are helping milady, you seem a good sort Fable.”  
“You are too kind Portia. I just hope I can be a help to her.”  
Portia offers her a soft smile, placing a hand on her shoulder, “I’m sure you will, you helped me today after all.”  
Once they arrive at the gates, Fable pulls her skirts free of the hikes on her belt, smoothing out any wrinkles. With a deep breath she marches into the marble halls of the place with a confident stride.


	3. Chapter 3

Warm light spills out of the tavern and into the darkened street. A sign reading The Rowdy Raven swings softly in the breeze and standing on the buildings stoop is Doctor Devorak. He looks so comfortable, he’s smiling, relaxed.  
“Oh, I’ll be back,” He calls over his shoulder into the tavern, “Just stepping out for some air.”  
He leans causally against the door frame, hands running through messy auburn curls. Almost surprised her spell worked, she staggers backwards falling into a barrel with a crash.  
“Are you alright?”  
The sound of footsteps growing closer, a pink blush covers her cheeks while she waits for the inevitable.  
“You took quite the tumble,” When he realizes it’s her he rises an inquisitive brow, “Oh, it’s you, what are you doing here?”  
“Oh, you know I love a good tavern, music, drinking, wanted fugitives, the works.”  
He laughs, cracking a grin, “Alright, up you go.”  
He takes her by the wrists giving her a pull. She lands smack against him, her hands braced against his bare chest. Both of them are surprised by the contact, frozen in place until Julian pats her on the arm.  
“So, rumor has it you are working for the place and I’m sure you’ve heard some, well- some interesting things about me, right? But, you haven’t heard my side of the tale yet have you?”  
She cocks her head, a loose ringlet tumbling down her temple, her interest peaked.  
“You’re right, I haven’t”  
“Are you thirsty?” He asks, “My treat. I still owe you for the reading.”  
He offers her a gloved hand, a toothy grin spreading across his face.  
“Alright Doctor,” rolling her eyes and placing her hand in his, “I’ll let you buy me a drink. But only because I’ve never turned down a free drink in my life.”  
“Oh, fantastic. Please, allow me”  
He guides her though the door, as soon as she enters she can’t help but grin. The revelry in the tavern pulls at her, a nostalgia for memories she had lost. A drunken bard sings a familiar sea shanty, while two crones argue over a card game and for the first time since she left her shop Fable almost feels at home.  
“You know, you seem a lot more comfortable here then I would have expected.” He states, ushering her into a cozy corner booth, “Nice girl like you, walking through a back alley tavern like its nothing? Seems like you are full of surprises. Make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right back.”  
He chats with a few patrons on his way to the bar, laughing, his guard down completely. The bartender glances over at her, with smug brow he claps Julian on the shoulder.  
“What’s your poison doll face?” Julian calls over to her, his drink already in hand.  
“Rum and pineapple with a dash of nutmeg, if you have it.”  
“Your wish is my command!” He responds with a little bow, “Barth, you heard the lady!”  
Eventually he makes his way back over to their table, sliding her drink across to her. Fable catches the tankard in her hand taking a gulp.  
“You know, I never did get your name?”  
“You didn’t ask.” She retorts, “All the same, it’s Fable.”  
“Ahh. Fable, what a lovely name. A musical name. Fable.”  
“I said I’d hear your side. So, what is it?” She glances at him briefly, idle swirling a finger on the rim of her drink, “Unless your plan stopped with buttering me up with free booze?”  
A low chuckle rumbles in his chest, “Oh, I did, didn’t I? How careless of me. Alright, ask anything you want.”  
She reaches into one of the leather pouches on her hip removing the letter. She rolls it between her small fingers, taking notice of the look in his eyes.  
“I found this on your desk at the place. It’s how I found you, so is that why you came back? She asks handing him the letter, “Your sister?”  
He looks up at her from the letter, his face is shocked, “You- You can read this?”  
She shrugs non committedly, “Just barely but, yes.”  
“I Haven’t seen her since she was ohh… this high”  
Julian flutters his fingers just above the lip of the table. His tone is somber, and Fable recalls the regret that pulled at her when she first found the scroll on his desk. He goes to hand it back to her but she pushes his hand away.  
“No, I-I think you should keep that it seems personal.”  
He blushes, tucking the scroll in his jacket pocket, “I- Thank you. That’s very kind.”  
His grey eye glances her over. She notices how handsome he is, auburn hair and angular face. He had a certain roughish charm about him. If he wasn’t a wanted murder...  
He must have caught her staring, the blush spreading from his ears to his cheeks as he clears his throat. It snaps her from her thoughts.  
“So aren’t you worried about getting turned in? You aren’t even trying to hide.”  
He shakes his head, taking a drink, “Here? Noooo. No, I’m not too worried. Folks around here aren’t known to uh, abide by the wants and wishes of the palace. Even the raven spends his time scouting for guards. Obsessively”  
As if on cue the raven bursts in and with a loud cry sends the tavern into a frenzy. Bar goes swarm and calmer out windows and doors. In the chaos, Julian quickly scoops Fable up in his arms, slipping out the back into the alleyway.  
He holds her close, his hands gripping tight on her waist and thigh. Her hands on his chest, she can feel the quick beat of his heart. He glances down at her for a moment, his brows knit together.  
“Are you alright?” his voice is low, warm breath tickling her ear.  
“I’m alright.” She reassures, “You can umm, put me down.”  
“Right. Of course, sorry.” He stammers, blushing as he places her softly on her feet. “You’ll be able to find your way back, yes? ”  
She nods, turning for the street. He catches her hands, pulling her back to him. She lifts her gaze to meet his, blinking expectantly.  
“Hey, thanks for not- Well thank you Fable.”  
She gives him a soft smile , squeezing his hand before making a dash for the street.


	4. Chapter 4

The midday sun beat down on the two young women linked arm and arm. The click of heeled boots on a cobblestone street mixes with light laughter. They bounce though the market carefree and light carrying baskets of rose petals and rice.   
“I’m so glad you went on that little adventure with me last night Fable.” Portia giggles, “I knew as soon as we met, we’d be fast friends.”   
Fable softly bumps her hip into Portia’s, “You are an absolute treat, I’m glad to have made a friend in the palace.”  
“So…” Portia hesitates, chewing her lower lip. Her normal chipperness sliding away, “How’s your investigation?”  
“I’m trying to keep an open mind,” She states, squeezing Portia’s freckled arm, “Like you said the Count had a lot of enemies.”   
Portia’s shoulders relax, a gentle smile tugging at her lips.   
“We still need to get a few more things for the announcement, wanna come with?”  
“I’ll catch up with you later Portia. I just need a few things from my shop.”   
“Sounds good, I’ll stop by when I’m done and we can walk to the square together.”  
The girls hug, each placing a peck on the other cheek before Portia heads back to the market’s heart. Fable smiles to herself, turning down the familiar street. Portia is such a comfort to her, always bright and kind.   
A clam washes over her when she reaches the door to her shop. Her personal oasis, homey and familiar. As she reaches for the keys on her belt, the door to the store swings open.   
“ …Well, hello there. Fancy seeing you here, outside your shop., I, ah, I was in the neighborhood…” He grins at her sheepishly, her face is incredibly unimpressed, “Marvelous, I’ll stop wringing my hands.”   
She looks around quickly before pushing him back into the store, the door closing behind them with a thud.   
“How do you keep getting in?” She plants her hands on her hips, eyes narrow, “I know I locked up after the first time. So you’ve either broken in, or…”  
“Or I’ve got a key?” He produces a key from his pocket, handing it over.   
“What- Why do you even have this?”   
She stuffs the key into her bag, waiting expectantly for his response. His ears go red, shifting his weight from side to side.   
“You don’t… ahem, well… well. Let’s just say I needed to make a couple house calls. After hours.”   
“Oh?” She chuckles, “Funny, I don’t recall Asra ever being ill? So is that what you are after?”   
“I- No! That’s not why I’m here.”  
“How do I know you didn’t just come to rob me then? You knew I wouldn’t be home after all.”   
“Oh, I hope you don’t think I’m a thief. I’m a lot of things, but not that. Even if I was I’d have to be a fool to try and take something from a woman who’s idea of a friendly hello is a jar to the temple and a knife to the throat. Search me. If you find anything of yours, I’ll show myself to the stocks. Go ahead. Search until you’re satisfied.”   
He pulled off his overcoat and jacket, arms outstretched, palm-up in submission. She steps closer, putting him on the back foot. Her golden eyes glimmer with mischief, it seems he didn’t expect her to take him up on his offer.   
She runs her hands across his chest. Her slender fingers slipping under his open top, causing him to shiver. Her hands make their way down his sides, running over his ribs.  
“No,no, no not there! I ahem I’m afraid I’m terribly ticklish. Don’t tell anyone.” He winks, “It’ll be our little secret.”  
“Stop moving.” She rollers her eyes, hands now working down his back.   
“You know what I like about you? You are very daring,” He glances over his shoulder, “So hands on.”  
She reaches a round, placing a firm hand on his chest, “Did I say you could move?”  
“Um, no” His face going flush, “you didn’t”   
Her hands make there way to the side of his hips, checking his pockets, something firm brushes her hand.   
“What!” She pulls back, her face more surprised then offended, “That is, umm not what I expected.”  
Julian roars with laughter, pulling a knife from his pocket, flipping it in his hand.   
“I am happy to see you though, I can show you if you’d like.”   
“You are deplorable.” She scolds, but a smile tugs at the corners of her lips, “Okay, why are you here, really?”  
He sighs, “You are very persistent, you know that? I was looking for answers but I didn’t find what I was looking for.”  
“Okay.”   
“Okay?” His tone skeptical.  
“I’m going to take you at your word.”  
He smiles, looking amused, “You really shouldn’t do that, with anyone and especially me.”  
“Whatever,” She dismisses him with a wave of her hand, “I don’t really buy all this anyways.”  
She gestures to all of him as she leans against the counter, “ You act like you are some bad boy but, no I don’t think that’s you. Maybe you did murder the count, maybe you didn’t I haven’t made up my mind yet but to be honest, I don’t think you did.”   
“Oh?” He waggles his brow, “And what makes you so sure I didn’t?”   
Before she can reply the door swings open.   
“Fable! I’m back, let’s get…. Going…”   
Portia freezes her eyes darting from Fable to Julian. The bucket in her hands falls to the ground, rice and roses spilling onto the ground. She’s trembling, tears welling up in her big blue eyes. Fable takes a step towards her, trying to find the words to explain why he is in her shop, why she hasn’t called the guard.   
“ Ilya?” Her voice is small, lip quivering “Ilya?! Is it really you?”   
She runs up to Julian, wrapping her arms around him. She stands on her tiptoes, taking his face in her hands.   
“Please don’t cry Pasha,” He pulls her back into an enveloping embrace, rubbing circles on her back.   
“You- you- You bastard! What are you doing here?! Out in the open? Are you trying to get yourself killed?!” She berates between hiccuped sobs.  
Fable places a cautious hand on Portia's shoulder, “No one saw him Portia, I pushed him into the store as soon as I saw him.”   
She glances up at Fable though damp lashes, the look in her eyes is doleful mixed with delight. She pulls away from the doctor pulling Fable close. Portia buries herself in her cinnamon curls, kissing her on the cheek.   
“Fable, I- Thank you.”  
Fable gives Julian a knowing look. His face twisted with guilt and remorse, he anxiously approaches.   
“So, I take it this is your sister?”   
“Yes.” He glances at Portia, still crying in her arms.  
Portia pulls back, looking at Fable unblinking, “You knew?”   
“I didn’t know it was you, though it makes sense in retrospect.”   
“Fable, can- Can we meet in the square for the announcement I think I need a moment alone with Ilya.”  
Fable nods, patting her arm softly. She slips Julian’s key into Portia’s hand, closing her fingers around it.   
“Of course, you can talk here. The guards will be heading for the square anyways, lock up when you leave. I’ll cover for you with the Countess, take your time.”   
As she heads for the back door Julian stops her, wrapping a hand around her biceps. He looks even more sullen than usual.   
“Fable, Thank you. I- It means a lot.” His voice is little more than a whisper, “You are really something special.”   
His face is painfully sincere, his normal melodrama gone completely. He dips down, lips brushing her soft cheeks. He turns back to Portia who’s wiping away tears with the back of her hand.


End file.
